I've had this story on my mind for ages. For context, this story is set in season 5, not long after 5.01, though 5x01 is set slightly later in the year just for this fic. I intend to update once a week (maybe twice if my impulse control is poor) and ratings may change. I hope you enjoy.
Big thanks to nons for everything and to belle too. xx
The fine rain hasn't stopped for hours, the cold is frigid. The wind whistles between the disused factories. Distant lighting reflects against the puddles, and a rat scurries between the abandoned buildings.
Till it pauses, making a small diversion as it sees the body and slowly approaches it from a few metres away, sniffing at the ground, the smell changing slightly as it nears the body. A metallic smell rather than rainfall.
The body is clothed in expensive quality clothes now sodden with rain. The body is face down, eyes closed, the hands unmoving, fingertips stained with blood.
The rat sniffs at the ground more and moves along next to the body until its level with a hand. The rat's hungry. Food is scarce when you're one of many others scavenging in a desperate quest for something to eat.
It opens its mouth and lowers it toward the fingertips, finally some food and only this rat so far aware of the rich feast they're about to begin.
The movement is minute, perhaps just a muscle reflex in someone close to death or even past death, but it serves enough to startle the rat and it moves away till it pauses and looks back watching the body before closing in on it again when there's no other sign of movement.
This time as its teeth attempt to break the skin, ready to gnaw its way through skin and bone, the body moves again followed by a quiet desperate groan though the rat barely hears the noise as it scurries away and into the night.
Leaving the body where it lies, still except for the faintest of movements as the chest rises and falls far slower than it should and the slightest of sounds, as one eye tries to open but it's too bruised and swollen, that's lost even in the vast emptiness of where it, or rather, he lies.
"Hailey."
A sound that's lost as it's captured within the sound of the wind and no one replies and no one's coming.
If the man has any conscious thought, he'd realize that. It's as much reflex, the natural reflex of what could be a dying man, to call for her as it is breathing.
Except Jay Halstead's not dying, he's not, from somewhere within he resolves that today isn't that day for him and he could never give up hope in her, not after all that's been. Not now. Even when he has no right to have hope at all. When he's almost forgotten what hope is.
He shuts his eyes while he waits, it's just resting them, that's all.
3 months earlier
Jay stares at his phone, not even sure what he's looking for when an arm nudges his own and he looks up to see a bottle appear on the bar in front of him, next to the barely touched bottle he's not even looked at for over ten minutes.
"I know you've barely touched the first bottle yet, but I needed an excuse to come over. To check you're okay," Hailey explains, a half-smile mingling with the barely disguised concern.
Jay opens his mouth to tell her he's okay, but she cuts in.
"I know. I know you're okay. And even if you weren't you wouldn't tell your still kinda new partner anyway, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to let you know people are concerned. Not just me, them," she jerks her thumb behind her and Jay turns slightly.
Sees the way the group behind them sitting at 2 tables look away in an almost comical way in different directions at Jay's glance. They're all terrible at it which is some kind of funny given their occupation. He feels the somewhat unfamiliar lately feeling of a smile on his face and nods, taking hold of the newest bottle before he looks at Hailey for a moment.
"I am ok."
She smiles, though not unkindly, and leans in towards him, lowering her voice. "Okay well, Adam owes me another drink. I said it'd be the first thing you said, and he said you'd just glower at me and not say a thing."
"I'm that predictable?"
She gives him a look and then taps his arm, "Come on over, talking helps you know especially when it's unrelated to the stuff that's keeping you up at night. Trust me."
She's gone before Jay can respond or even ask what she means, even though where he's concerned at least, he knows what she's getting at.
Jay sighs, sliding off the stool ready to follow her, his hand reaching for the bottle but there's a peel of laughter and he glances at the group again, no one looking over at him aside from Hailey and he swallows, nods at nothing and without sparing another glance at anything other than the door, he walks toward it and steps outside feeling nothing but relief that he's outside, alone again.
All the way to the truck that he'd half expected earlier to have to leave here overnight. He thinks Hailey will follow him. To cajole him back into Molly's. The only surprise is that when it doesn't happen, there's this tiny part of him that's disappointed.
Jay barely sleeps. What sleep he has brings nightmare upon nightmare. Most of it is unintelligible. Most of it he forgets as soon as he wakes but it leaves him restless, unhappy.
He's almost forgotten what it feels like to be happy, and even the one thing that brought him stability: the job, feels like it's been knocked sideways of late.
Still, rather than lie in bed staring at the ceiling, Jay stumbles out of bed at just after 5am, stares at the TV screen till it's gone 6am and by 7am, he's out of his place and in his truck driving around till it's an acceptable time to go in without it raising questions he's not in any mood to answer.
He hears the call for a body found by the tennis courts by Sheridan Park and it's nothing out of of the ordinary but it's something to do now even when Homicide arrive and take over, even if they're already there, it's something to focus on and he's saying he's on his way and pulling up on South May Street a few minutes later before he even properly registers he's doing it.
The body lies between two dumpsters opposite the tennis courts. Two beat cops are there interviewing a man Jay presumes is the person who found them. An elderly guy who looks gray with shock.
Jay approaches the body that's face down on the ground. He reaches for his gloves and puts them on as he crouches down while one of the beat cops nears him.
"The guy who found him lives real close by, heard nothing aside from a car pull up at just after 4am, they were playing music and he remembered waking up. Said he heard nothing except raised voices till there was a squeal of tyres as the car pulled away again two minutes later. He came out for his early morning walk and found the body."
Jay nods as he looks at the body. The man's face is looking towards Jay, there's bruising Jay can see around the closed eyes and dried blood around his nose, his fingertips are stained with blood on the hand that's by his face. The clothes are good quality. Just dirtied from where the body lies now.
Jay stands up.
"Any ID?"
The cop nods and hands him a wallet that Jay opens and pulls out a credit card.
David Anthony Flynn.
Jay frowns as he sees 2 one hundred-dollar bills. Not a robbery then and then pulls out the photograph in between the bills.
A bunch of guys, not just any bunch of guys. Army guys. Ranger uniforms. He swallows reflexively.
"Anyone done the notification yet?"
"No."
Jay nods, "I-we'll take care of it." In his mind, he's already mentally preparing for the battle with Homicide and Voight too for that matter for intelligence to take this case.
Not just because David Flynn was a Ranger, but something more. Call it intuition, call it a need to have something to focus on when he's been second guessing himself since Morgan Williams.
Whatever it is, he needs it and he's not about to let it slide or let anyone else deal with it, even if it's quick, even if it's cut and dried.
Thirty minutes later and Jay's in the bullpen, tapping away at the computer when Voight arrives.
"Sarge," he stands up as Voight continues into his office and follows the older man in, "Sarge, I was on my way in and I-."
"David Flynn, right?"
Jay narrows his eyes in confusion, "How did you?"
Voight turns around from hanging up his jacket to face Jay, "Got a call from homicide asking why intelligence was treading on one of their cases. Said they'd take the notification. I told them that my detectives know what they're doing, now you tell me what you were doing so I can call them and let them know that we're taking the case from them."
"David Flynn was a Ranger," Jay begins, expecting Voight to raise his eyebrows, to grunt in that familiar way perhaps and give him some kind of look that he understands Jay and his interest but that ultimately it's not enough. It doesn't happen though. Voight sits down, impassive as he looks up at Jay, "There's nothing to show why he was murdered. He's got no rap sheet. He was working a normal job, a delivery driver since he got out. There's nothing anywhere to show why a guy liked David Flynn ended up face down in an alley twelve miles from where he lived."
Voight nods slowly, "Jay, I understand this hits heavier with you than most things but I need more otherwise it's all homicide, you know that right?"
Jay doesn't respond directly, just says. "At least let me and Upton do the notification?"
There's more than a hint of pleading in Jay's voice and he realizes he doesn't care and thankfully there's no argument, just a slight nod and Jay murmurs his thanks as he steps out of Voight's office, into the bullpen, picking up his cell and jacket and messaging Hailey to let her know he'll pick her up on the way.
On Hailey's first day on the job, her sergeant had assigned her a notification. It's a rite of passage every cop goes through. She thinks she could do one every single day and be certain about the right way to tell someone a loved one was dead and it would still be the hardest, most unpredictable aspect of the job.
They do the first notification less in Intelligence, but sometimes needs must. Except even from the short explanation from Jay as he'd picked her up on the way, she's at something of a loss why they're doing this one.
They arrive on a quiet street in Edgewater. The house is painted red on the outside with 2 chairs on the front porch and hanging baskets either side of the door with plants in front of the chairs too.
Hailey exchanges a glance with Jay, who clears his throat and then leans forward to press the bell.
It only takes a few seconds for someone to approach the front door, a woman who smiles as she opens the door and the smile stays in place until she takes in the sober expressions on Hailey and Jay's faces and sees their badges.
The lady is small, shorter than Hailey, slender and with immaculately groomed grey hair.
"Mrs Flynn? Mother of David Anthony Flynn?" Jay starts, waiting for the woman to nod or show some sign of acknowledgement and at her slow nod, he continues, "I'm Detective Halstead, this is Detective Upton, could we come in?"
Even as she nods, she's pushing the door to close it rather than opening it to allow them in and she calls out, "Steven, the police are here," fear showing in the way her voice trembles.
They can hear footsteps coming down stairs which get louder until Steven Flynn appears behind his wife, the same obvious fear etched on his features even as he opens the door wider, places a gentle hand on his wife's shoulder and murmurs, "It's okay Helen, I'm here."
Steven Flynn is tall. Imposing, or at least he could be, but there's a warmth in his brown eyes even as he looks fearful.
The house on the inside isn't just a house, it's a home. It smells of baking, home baking. Bread and coffee too. The walls are covered with pictures, drawings and photographs, some black and white, some newer. The photographs are of a family, mostly.
In the living room, on the mantel, there's another family photograph. 4 people, 2 children and 2 adults. Jay and Hailey exchange a quick glance even as Helen Flynn talks nervously, quickly, as though she's so desperate to not stop talking because if she stops talking, Hailey and Jay will start and it feels like she and her husband already know what they will be told. If she keeps talking, it delays the inevitable.
"I can get you something to drink or eat? We love to have cake though it's too early but oh what am I saying, it's never too early for cake right Steven?"
Steven Flynn gently lays his hand on his wife's knee, whispers something in her ear that neither Jay nor Hailey hear and Helen flinches, almost loses her composure before she bites her lip, shuts her eyes briefly and exhales then opens her eyes and nods.
Jay opens his mouth to start, but Steven Flynn interrupts.
"How did he die? That's what you're here to tell us, right? That David is dead, so how did he die?"
Few things surprise Hailey, she knows Jay is the same. She knows this. They've each had screaming, they've had crying, they've had silence, they've had times that they've had to repeat over and over till they're sure it's registered with the person; the family left behind.
Nothing like this though, at least not for Hailey, this quiet acceptance and acknowledgement instantly from David's father at least.
"We'll find out soon and as soon as we know we'll tell you," Jay answers.
"The autopsy, right? Thank you," Steven replies as Helen stands up, straightening her skirt and crosses over to the mantel picking up the picture, her fingers trembling as she does and then walks to where Hailey's sitting, handing her the picture.
"That picture's from twelve years ago. David was sixteen, that's Ella, she was twelve, she died 6 months later of leukemia. Now they're both gone."
"We're so sorry Mrs Flynn," Hailey looks up towards the older woman who shows no sign of having heard, staring at the picture instead, her hand reaching for it like it's a lifeline.
"I'm going to make some coffee," Steven says as he stands and walks toward the kitchen. Hailey and Jay exchange a glance and Jay nods as he stands up too and follows him to the kitchen.
The older man doesn't turn around when Jay walks in, he's facing away from Jay, his hands clutching onto the counter, his head bowed.
"David was our lifeline when Ella died. Our rock, he almost didn't serve even though it was what he always wanted. Helen was so scared we'd lose him too but I convinced her we couldn't stand in his way," Steven turns around then, "Did you ever serve, Detective?"
Jay nods, "Rangers."
There's a ghost of a smile that appears for a second, "I figured. Iraq or Afghanistan?"
"Afghanistan."
"David served in Iraq. Two tours. He was different after the second one in particular, came home and lived with us and he was so different. Quieter. Didn't laugh as much as he used to. He used to stay up all night, and he'd only go to sleep if he ever slept when we were out. He moved out after he had one particularly bad nightmare that we heard the tail end of even though we tried to get him to stay, tried to help him, he just didn't want to burden us I guess."
Jay nods, the similarity stark even though for Jay it was Afghanistan, even though Jay's older. It's all so similar, but he doesn't have time to dwell on it now. There's a reason they're here and a tangible way Jay and Intelligence or CPD at least can help.
"Mr Flynn, can you think of anyone who'd want to kill David or any reason they would kill him?"
The older man shakes his head, scraping a hand through his hair, rubbing at his chin with his other hand before he pauses, his gaze resting on Jay.
"Maybe this is something or maybe it's nothing but after David moved out, for a while things I think were still difficult but then suddenly it changed. He got happier, he came by two or three times a week, he was open. He was talking about going to college, becoming a teacher or something like that. He was even talking about finding a girl and I kept asking him what had changed and he said he'd found some guys who knew what he'd been through, that he could be honest with. Some kind of bar he went to. He said they'd saved his life, and I was so happy, we both were. He was more like the David he used to be."
Jay watches as Steven's expression changes from one of happy remembrance to a frown to worse. Fear, maybe.
"It changed almost overnight back to a place or even lower than when he first came back the second time. He stopped coming by and when me or Helen tried to call, he would cut us off so fast. Last time I saw him was ten days ago, I stopped by his apartment and he was so jumpy, scared and jumpy. Said it was a mistake for me to be there, he didn't want me to be a part of it. Collateral damage or something like that. I tried to tell him to speak to the guys at the bar and he laughed but it was almost hysterical, you know?"
"You think the bar had something to do with it?"
"I dunno. I just," the words die on his lips and he looks out towards the yard, shaking his head, "You know, I just don't think or see how we can ever get over this. This family ends with us now, how are we supposed to overcome this?"
Jay takes a step closer. The urge to promise everything so strong. Except making promises is foolish, you make them and within a day or two they're broken and what if that happens? Except maybe it's the difference between Steven and Helen Flynn having something to live for, even if that something is just the wait for justice.
"I promise you we'll find out who did this, Mr. Flynn. I promise." Turns out it's easy to make the promise.
"I believe you, Detective."
"Jay, it's Jay, sir."
Steven nods, murmuring a quiet thanks before looking away and out of the window again.
"Mr Flynn, just one more thing, do you know the name of this bar?"
Hours later and Jay stares at the computer screen in front of him, rubbing his head as a headache looms.
"Jay. Hailey," Voight calls from behind him and Jay looks around towards their boss who gestures for them to come into his office and they exchange a glance as Jay follows Hailey in.
"Got anything more on the bar?" Voight asks.
Hailey shakes her head, "It's like looking for a needle in a haystack, Sarge, looking for a bar downtown that Mr. Flynn can't remember the name of and very few would advertise that they've got support groups running from them or not obviously anyway."
Voight grunts, "Hmm, okay, Jay, you got anything else?"
Reluctantly Jay shakes his head, "We just have to find the name Sarge, I think as soon as we find the name, we'll see things happen. We just need time."
The older man stares at Jay for a moment then leans forward, clasping his hands together.
"Jay, I get why you want this. I get why it hits you harder than it does any of the rest of us. It's that connection and not only that after the little girl, you need this. You need something except I got homicide in my ear and it doesn't matter how much I want to say yes to this for your sake, I need something solid and I need it by the morning otherwise homicide will take this back and there's nothing I'll be able to do to stop it."
Jay doesn't respond at first.
"Halstead?"
Jay nods, "Yeah, so I'll just make sure I find what we need, Sarge, I'll find it," then he walks out the office and into the bullpen without another word.
Hailey shrugs at Voight's look at her.
"I guess I'll go help."
Hailey helps, but also she watches Jay. Jay, who's practically oblivious to anything other than what's on his screen. Rejecting any attempts from anyone else at conversation.
She watches all his micro expressions, the little flickers of stress that he probably doesn't even realize he's showing.
Day turns into early evening, and soon it's just the two of them. Voight left twenty minutes ago, giving Jay a loaded look and shaking his head behind Jay at Hailey.
Everything hinges on information they don't have. Information that's likely so tantalizingly close but out of reach all the same. Hailey knows what it's like to have such a need for something, a lucky break of some kind to be that key breakthrough in a case. That thirst for justice, that need and desire to make things right.
She barely knows Jay, she's not even scratched the surface really and yet there's enough that she sees in him that knows what feels like his current distrust of her is worth persevering with, it's worth pushing against and proving to him she will be the best partner he's ever had.
It's late though and maybe this case isn't destined to be the one where she proves it or starts to, anyway. She yawns again for the third in as many minutes and looks at the time on her monitor. 9.57pm.
Vaguely she realizes Jay's been working for almost fifteen hours, likely longer, and while she knows he's had worse days and longer still days too, he needs sleep and so does she.
She stands up yawning another time and reaches for her jacket, seeing the fraction of a second of disappointment on his face he can't disguise as she puts the jacket on and pulls her hair into a ponytail.
"Jay, come on, we could make a start early in the morning or maybe we just let homicide take care of it."
"I made a promise," Jay replies abruptly.
"Does it matter who takes the case as long as we get the people who do this?"
Jay looks away from his screen and fixes her with a look, "It matters to me."
And there it is. Hailey expects Jay to look away immediately, to distract her with something else, some other words, something flippant perhaps because perish the thought he shows vulnerability or admits the real reason for all this or at least the partial reason.
A million and one responses mostly focused on how he needs to let go of what happened to Morgan and his part in it almost spill from her lips but something stops her, not least this need to know herself what happened to David Flynn.
This need to support her partner too, to prove to him he can trust her, that she'll do whatever it takes even if it's ultimately in vain.
Hailey blows out a breath, shrugging the jacket off and placing it on the back of the chair again.
"Ok, so I'm done with the list I was looking at, where do you want me to look next, oh wait, hold that thought because if we're pulling an all-nighter, the least you owe me is a deep dish, right?"
Jay doesn't respond at first, just watches her before a quiet small smile appears across his features and he nods, "I think I can agree to that," then he looks down at the list he'd made and tears it into two and hands her the list across their two desks.
"Okay, let's do this," Hailey says to the bullpen, warming ever so slightly at the faintly amused expression on Jay's face that gives away quickly to serious focus on one thing only.
The key that can unlock whatever happened to David Flynn.